


(re)makings of history

by scottmchungup



Category: Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, M/M, the plot line is still pretty messy while i figure it out but here have feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:19:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmchungup/pseuds/scottmchungup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max and Magnus Lightwood-Bane always knew they would end up here, alone. But loneliness can lead to insanity, and an insane warlock with immense power is just what sent this family back into motion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. relations

A/N: Hello peanuts!! I am Kayla, Scottmchungup and I have been ruined by L-B family feels so I must wreck myself even more in the form of word vomit writing. I do not own anything Shadowhunters or Shadowhunters affiliated (except for angst i do own a lot of that). This story is purely for fun as an avid writer and depending on how the flow goes I'm fairly certain we will have a strange time travel fuck up in the mix woohoo! Enjoy chapter 1!

 

"...And although the Lightwood-Bane union was not the first Shadowhunter-Downworlder marriage, it was the first to be officially recognized by the clave. After the rise and fall of the circle, many predated traditions were left behind and downworlders were elevated in status. While Alexander Lightwood died decades ago, Magnus Bane is still believed to be alive, although his whereabouts as of now are unknown. Their lineage is now extensive and elaborate, but the beginnings of the society we now know were founded here. Thank you and we'll pick up here next time."   
The fluorescents brightened and Max released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding until he almost fainted. Going to the university was an impulse decision, something he'd decided on as a side note, and more as a hobby than a career.   
And downworler relations? He'd taken that as an easy A class because hell he'd had more 'relations' with downworlers and shadowhunters alike than even the book could mention. But now, as he sat amidst the scraping of chairs, and the background pleas of some freshman asking for a grade change he wished for any kind of out from this four-walled hell.   
The lesson had started where their Monday class had left off--- the Camille Belcourt era of vampires, Faeries and their predated roles, and other rudimentary topics. But as easy as blinking---a true mistake of Max Lightwood-Bane's, the professor switched into something that made Max question which arm it was that went numb during a heart attack.   
Raphael Santiago was mentioned.   
The name alone did something shocking to Max's nerve endings, but it was a popular name and Max often ignored it. People were named Raphael, he understood that and begrudgingly had come to terms with the fact that his busy-haired brother wouldn’t respond to it anymore.   
The mention of Rafe's namesake however, that was a new heart palpitation.   
Max missed his brother every second he lived without him. He missed his quick-witted sense of humor, and his annoying practicality, and the passion he saved for those select few that got close enough to the warmth of his aurora. He was a genuine person, and the only person Max had ever felt like he truly belonged with. He was his brother, and had he been physically susceptible to rune-taking, would have probably been the older boy's parabati.   
Rafael didn't die without a lineage however, and definitely not without immersing Max into his new family. But he died regardless. Just as his Ayah said he would, and just as his father had. He had died, and try as he might, looking into Rafe's eyes on a new face was like trying to breath out of a car exhaust. It drained him every time, and after each visit he just kept thinking of that little dash on Rafael's headstone that held the best years of Max's very long life. Every time he couldn’t help but wish to have been with his brother, even in this.   
Rafael had always been Alec's son. Not to say he wasn't Magnus' as well, no he loved Magnus fervently, but Rafael and Alec had that kind of twin soul connection. They understood each other with ease, and while words were sparse between the two of them, when they did speak it had meaning. They were pragmatic, hard headed, and absolutely and irrevocably stubborn. Even as a child Rafael had the mentality of thirty-year-old Alec, and the bond only strengthened over time. They were the tacit glue of the Lightwood-Bane family, and although submissive in social events, they were monumental in presence. But all good things come to end, and the all great things end in disaster. Alec was the first to die although only 53.   
Alec's side of the family was brought up next in this ghosts of tragedies past. His Aunts Clary and Isabelle were mentioned briefly, not that Max could hear through the ringing in his ears. His uncles Jace and Simon had their moment in the spotlight, and even Luke and Jocelyn had a showcase of titles displayed beneath them. They were all instrumental in their own effects, and their names were quite popular in general history classes. Those wounds pierced, but the intro to 'shadowhunter relations' staked him.   
The subject was breached so scientifically. Before his parents, there had been no official and ceremonial wedding between shadowhunters and downworlders. And then Alexander and Magnus 'aided in the demise of the circle' and with Alexander's 'notable political ties' had arranged within a five year ending of the war a new law that presented the opportunity of free marriage. They married, and the shadowhunter died. It was all so clinical Max could only wonder what it would be like to take notes on this objectively. Would it be something like: AL + MB = <3 ----> dead: AL MIA: MB ?   
The way they said Alexander instead of Alec made Max question whether they would even use names in the near future, whether or not his parents would just become a paragraph in some shitty textbook. If they would just be mentioned as a shadowhunter and a Warlock, and not Alec and Magnus. The thought brought a shudder to Max's spine. Even the memories of his father could die, and Max was forever cursed to walk among the ashes.   
If his father were in any state of sound mind and body Max might have accidentally called him, but the presentation had been wrong about one thing. Both of Max's parents were gone. Maybe in the literal sense, only one of his fathers had died, but Magnus was nothing but a shell of the man he once was----if this were a vastly hollow shell. Once Alec died Max could clearly see the foundations cracking inside Magnus, but once Rafe--- and his descendants started dying, Magnus Bane was no more. The high warlock of Brooklyn was decimated in the blink of an eye. And in his footsteps, Max had picked up the shattered remains. Technically his father still held the official title, but everyone in the city knew who would pick up when dialed.   
The exception however was that Magnus would always pick up Max's calls. One ring, and the once soothing voice of the man who raised him would fill his ears. But just as Alec and Rafael were birds of the same feather, Magnus and Max were all too alike. They were explosive, chaotic, emotionally volatile people who were in the same sinking boat. They felt each other's pain all too powerfully, and hadn't really been in the same room as each other in years. Max loved Magnus, more than anything on this planet, but for both of their sakes, and what little sanity they had left, they kept contact to a minimum.   
In a haze, Max gathered his books, navigating through the swarm of collegiate traffic with a peculiar moisture on his eyes that could only be explained by an allergy Max was unaware he even had. Max Lightwood-Bane doesn’t cry. The last time he cried was on Rafe's birthday----the first one Max spent alone, and since then he had decided that no feelings was better than feeling like someone was continuously squeezing his heart at all times. He had shut off his modem for emotion, and was currently working on auto pilot. But what a strange thing auto pilot was.   
His fingers moved without thought, the numbers coming to mind as easy as breathing had once been, and when he had just found refugee in the small uncongested corner just outside of the classroom building, the ringing started.   
"Dad," but his words were cut off by the strangest sound--- more ringing. The shrill brrrrrriiing continued on as if mocking him with every passing second, and as the phone went to voicemail--- a thing Max didn’t even know Magnus had, something unsettling nestled itself in Max's stomach.   
His father always picked up his calls. Even if he were on Saturn without a lick of signal, Magnus would always find a way to answer Max's calls and this wasn’t just a strange occurrence, this was an impossible frontier.   
Max's defenses set in and instantly a portal, shimmering and purple appeared in front of him. Max didn’t consider himself a holy man, but he prayed to whoever was listening that Magnus was alright. 'Alright' was relative with the two of them, but as of now, alright really just meant alive. The optimist side of his brain displayed happy pictures of Magnus sleeping with the sound on silent, or Magnus taking a quick shower but rationally Max knew that wasn't---couldn't be it.   
The portal spell finalized and Max eagerly stepped in with both emphasis and purpose. The last member of Max's family was in trouble, and Max refused to become an orphan. 

 

A/N: Fin! Any thoughts/questions/comments/concerns? Let me know in the comments section or send a private message if preferred! I am very flimsy with my directions and story arcs so lets see where this takes us, thank you for reading chapter 1!


	2. collapse

A/N: hello pumpkins, im so sorry I have taken forever!! Life is a whirlwind of madness rn but thank you so much for your support, the comments really do make me focus more on getting my shit done and chapter three is already being edited for final review as a special im sorry for the eons it took for chapter two to get up! Thanks for sticking with me and happy angsty malec :-)

Just as a general rule, Max always portalled into the living room. If he were to portal in anywhere else, he would be met by the smiling, timeless photographs of the people who just made his heart clench. From the hallway, the walls were littered with pictures of Alec's 30th birthday, where Uncle Jace had gotten Alec a cane as a joke and Alec's face expressed that weird mixture of elated joy and total disapproval; and Rafe's first rune where his cheeky smile could be seen even in the dark, and the rare but mind numbing photograph of the four of them together, Max smiling without a care in the world or the knowledge that one day everything would crumble around him. That was why he never used the front door, or maybe why he never really visited in general.

But on this specific occasion, he knew he would have to brave it out, keep his heart safely inside his chest and check the front door for any signs of forced entry. If Magnus was in trouble it would not be some subpar robbery or anything to do him in. This would be a planned attack by experts. Magnus Bane may be a grieving hermit, but that does not mean his powers withered away. Messing with the High Warlock of Brooklyn is as foolish as it is suicidal. But the mahogany door was closed, looking devishily innocent as Max pushed it and began to trek in. His hands sparked with a nervous purple energy as he looked straight forward, refusing to acknowledge the walls that just taunted him of a life he would never claim again.

From the end of the hallway there was a dim light, the only sign of life in an otherwise morbid establishment. And as Max rounded the corner into the vast space of his once home, he was met by the site of one of the most powerful Warlock's of their time, face down on the carpet.

"Dad!" Max let out something between a command and a yell, and had already rushed to pick Magnus up from where he lay. After the death of their family, Max and Magnus were no strangers to each other's benders, but it was nevertheless shocking to walk in on the sight of a limp body.

Max's slender blue fingers traced over his fathers hands with light magic, the electricity sparking meaning Magnus was still alive, just unconscious. Max let out a relieved sigh that was infused with disbelief, how could Magnus drain himself so quickly?

Max let as much strength as he could allow flow between their hands without him too falling face first, and eventually let go to recharge himself. Magnus hadn't stirred since Max's arrival, and with nothing else to do he began to clean up the pigsty.

Magnus Bane was notorious for being picture-perfect. As a child, Max could remember how insurmountable it would be to come home to an entirely new look almost daily, and how much style Magnus effortlessly exuded. It was mesmerizing on all accounts, especially considering the sharp juxtaposition of Alec's dark attire next to Magnus' eccentric ones. But after Alec died Magnus lost his flair. He stopped dressing so extravagantly and speaking in riddles, and became a man of few words. A strange change for a man who was once the definition of boisterous. Max missed the dad who had told him they would be just fine on their own, and that the memory alone, and what Alec and Rafe had given them would be enough to get them through a life time. He missed the naïve optimism.

Now he was stuck sorting through torn pages and uneaten food in order to create a path to the kitchen. If he wasn't directly looking down to navigate through the haphazard mess he might've just missed it.

Somewhere in his track though, lay a shining gold book. It was basically luminescent in the dark, beckoning to him like a lighthouse and as Max neared closer he could basically feel it humming with

magic. It was raw though, and definitely dangerous, but given Max's low magical gauge right now he doubted his presence would do much, especially considering a much more experienced warlock had clearly been living with said power.

As soon as his fingers wrapped around the pristine bindings it opened up, clearly to a previously bookmarked page. Although it was basked in a heavenly light, the inscriptions on the page were surprisingly hard to make out, and he could just barely determine that it was Latin. A very old, and clearly very powerful thing of sorcery.

"Magnus Bane, what have you been up to..." It was more of a murmur than an actual question, and instead of rationally putting down the book and waiting until his father awoke to pry further, Max decided to use what little magic he had left. His lithe fingers danced across the page that was clearly only susceptible to magic, and with great strain the words came to life. But what really caused his head to fill with static was when the words became comprehensible.

"Tempus viator" it read. Time travel.

His hands froze, and between them the book fell like an empire. Surely Magnus Bane was not stupid enough to mess with time. Surely, the father that had scolded him for even bringing it up after Rafe's death was not meddling in something so fragile. Surely Magnus Bane had not lost his mind.

But the evidence was right there. Magnus would never intentionally drain himself of power, not willingly, he hated being vulnerable. Only something incredibly powerful could have done his father in like this, and considering their wedding anniversary just passed, Max could only assume the worst.

In truth, he wasn't sure what to think. Time travel was one of the red alert pieces of magic. Not only could it kill the warlock involved, but time could be altered in such a way that this universe may cease to exist. When practiced perfectly, time travel is completely viable, but that was only in theory. When Rafe died Max went into a parallel spiral Magnus did for Alec. They had both lost their eternal companions and had generally lost the thrill for anything. It was numbing, constantly thinking of someone you'd never see again, and Max had searched for something to take him back.

Of course at the time, Magnus had gone into overprotective dad mode and stopped Max's plans in their tracks. He told him time was the one thing they just couldn't fix, and that is was pointless, and careless to try. Clearly he forgot to practice what he preached. 

But even still, Max couldn't find it in himself to be mad at his father. He had seen the way Alec's death had destroyed him. He was present when Magnus' eyes no longer held the light they used to dance with, and begrudgingly started counting Magnus' smiles on a by year basis. Alexander Lightwood was his world, and as much as he tried, this world just wasn't bright enough for him. 

So Max took a deep breath, picked the book up off the floor and decided to help Magnus up next. They would move on from this just as they did any other time. A day's worth of recap, and then never discussing it again until the bottled up feelings resulted in yet another volcanic eruption of disaster. perfect. 

But as soon as Max's hand met Magnus' arm, a static filled the room. It whirred and buzzed like an old fashioned computer turning on and suddenly, in a mixture of blinding white light and a white hot sense of pain in his limbs, it exploded. Somewhere along the transitionary period Max had lost his grip of his father, and now, he was resting on the hard linoleum of somewhere that was definitely not the loft. 

When his eyelids fluttered open, he could have sworn he was either hungover, or dead because the world around him would not stop spinning. And when it did, nothing gained clarity, because the person above him only confused the poor boy more. 

"Izzy?" He choked.

A/N: I'm still debating between which time period Max falls into, and even if it is the same universe as before but *kanye shrug* we'll see how this goes. Lemme know what you think and thank you so much for comments/kudos they really make my day!


	3. trespasser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max & the Lightwoods

The last thing he remembers is being told to stay put. He remembers waking up, feeling his heart drop to his knees as the youthful face of his aunt fill his vision, and the static in his brain turning thunderous as it made its way to a full-fledged headache. 

Isabelle Lightwood wasn't just the cool Aunt in Max's eyes, she was the cool everything. The one who could properly tease Alec, the way only a sister would know how, and the one who taught Max about life and how to live it. She was an inspiration when he needed it, and a partner in crime when his parents hated it, together they were all too similar. She was like the weirdest blend of a mother/sister/aunt/friend known to Earth, and Max couldn't count the number of times he thanked whoever was listening for that. 

Now however, he realized just how cold he was without her. When she had died, going out in a blaze of glory as elegantly as only Aunt Izzy could, Max felt the glass floor he was standing on shatter below him. She had gripped him by the shoulders at Alec's funeral, tears flooding her beautiful eyes as she proclaimed that they would be okay with such ferocity that Max almost believed her. Later, she became the second Lightwood to die, preceded by Max's father, and succeed by Uncle Jace. The funeral was a solemn affair, one only Isabelle Lightwood could have brightened, ironically. 

Max had grown particularly close to Izzy's children in her absence. They all held large traces of her, and if that was the closest he could get to the feeling of warmth he felt when in her presence then so be it. Now, as he stood mere steps away from his aunt, he had never felt so cold. 

She was dressed in something so remarkably Izzy--- a tight red dress with heels that could stomp a demon in its tracks and lithe smile constantly playing at her lips; like the world was one big joke and she was the only one in on it. She stood by the controls, archaic things in Max's times but probably revolutionary to the people here, and whispered in hush tones to a man Max genuinely didn't recognize. Max was placed in the center of the room, probably to have eyes constantly kept on him, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but look around and eavesdrop like a petulant child. 

Shadowhunters were everywhere. Walking, talking, sparring, it was just like when Max would join Rafe to the institute, only this time Max felt like he was being greeted by the ghosts of loved ones past. Alec, was no where to be found. Jace, Clary, Simon, Luke... Magnus, all of them MIA. Possibly the only person who could explain what the hell just happened was his father, and despite Max's constant demands to see the High Warlock of Brooklyn he was nowhere to be found. Did Magnus fall through with him? Were there two Magnus' currently battling for dominance at the loft? Was Max stuck here until his consciousness caught up? These were all questions he doubted Izzy could answer and yet she still remained stoic in deciding the fate of a warlock who broke through some very powerful wards. 

"What is your relation to Magnus Bane?" She walked up with poise, asking the question as a stranger might and that clenched Max's heart in a strange and unwelcome way. Ew, feelings. He thought, making a mental note to discard of those later. 

"Friend." He answered quickly, as the word father swam around in his mind, unable to breach vocalization. In his own times, Max often referred to Magnus as a friend. You don't gain a lot of street cred claiming to be the young dependent of a powerful warlock, you must be the powerful warlock, and although most downworlders knew his heritage, it was still nice to just be Max for a day. Not Max Lightwood-Bane, two names he could never live up to. 

In this world, Izzy seemed skeptical, watching Max's blue figure with eyes as small as slits. 

"Magnus has friends?" She was joking, clearly by the light in her eyes, but Max still felt as if the interrogation was on going. "Regardless, he's busy at the moment. Out with my brother---" 

"Alec." He didn't mean to interrupt but at the mention of his father, something churned in his stomach and he felt the density of his stomach settle. Alec. He's alive in this period, and what's more he's young! Granted in only a few short years from this time, Alec will find and consequently take in Max, but he's still got to be what---18 right now? Max is older than his father in this frame, and if Alec had any idea who the hell Max Lightwood-Bane was he might have teased him about that. Pity. 

"----yeah." Izzy commented hesitantly, her eyes roaming Max's face like he was hiding private intel on his forehead. "How did you know that?" 

Shit. He was supposed to be an innocent third party, here for... what was his cover again? Regardless, Izzy was now in full on investigation mode, her hands on her hips meaning business. Think Max! Max was charismatic, he learned that from his father, and this would take only some light persuasion if he could get his headache under control enough to think. 

"Well, I'm friends with Magnus Bane. And that means I know every minute detail about your brother---Alec. I know he thinks Magnus' Bloody Mary's are too strong." He tries to flash Izzy a trademark Max smile, but something in her stature still emanates distrust. Smart girl, she knows how to spot a lie. 

"Is there a phone or---" 

"Izzy!" 

Oh no. Max knows that voice anywhere. It's the voice that calls out triumphantly before winning any board game Max sucks at. The voice that resonates whenever it's Christmas and people are not nearly as excited as said person wants them to be, the voice of yet another person who's funeral Max spoke at. Jace Herondale makes his eccentric entrance. 

"Are you too afraid to get your ass kicked again, or did you purposely stand me up for training today?" He says it in such a Jace way. A lopsided smile that cannot hold in his self-idolizing laugh, his posture showing off the confidence only someone like Jace could hold. It's all so painstakingly familiar that Max has to look away, almost ashamedly. The last time he'd seen that face it was pale. He can feel the breath start to hitch in his throat, and he wonders how much more he can take before the light blue sparks that lick his fingers turn into a magical catastrophe. He had spent a long time, decades, trying to bury these people in his memory, and because Magnus---of all people had to meddle with a piece of dark magic, Max was forced to stand on the outside looking in. He should be apart of these jokes. Apart of the love, and here he is only met as a trespasser. 

"That was your first time knocking me down, don't get cocky." Izzy chides, shaking her head slightly. "And we have a guest. I checked---the wards aren't down and somehow we have an unknown warlock in our living room." 

"----Max." Max offers, smiling like a Cheshire cat. But that was clearly the wrong thing to say. Izzy crosses her arms, a clear sign Max is falling further into the red zone. 

"Max, huh?" And he curses himself for a second. He completely forgot about his namesake, and notably, how he is still alive and related to his aunt right now. And from every time travel movie Simon has ever showed him, he should know not to use his real name but... when has Max Lightwood-Bane ever been known to think before he acts? 

"Can you call Magnus again? Tell him to detach from Alec, he's needed here." Izzy says it all the while scrutinizing Max with her eyes. He smiles sheepishly, somewhat pleased that now they were placing urgency on their calls to Magnus Bane. 

Distantly however, he is aware how apocalyptic this could be. Speaking on a day to day basis, Max thinks about Alec frequently. He remembers everything, every pancake, every holiday, every eyeroll, but the ropes around his heart only pull and pull until there is nothing left whenever he thinks about his late father. If there is a man deserving of eternity it is him, and yet all he got was some fifty-odd years. Max should have done something. He should have been there, on that mission that Alec never came home from. Max should have met them for dinner the previous night. Max should have told him he loved him, and that he was thankful for every moment Alec gave to them, and instead vacancy filled the spots that Max should have filled. He was guilty, in every sense of the word, and the possibility of seeing Alec so alive... so young, Max wonders if maybe he should mess up the future. Maybe he'll have more time. Clearly he's already found Magnus so he's happy, maybe Max should just remove himself from the equation before the world has time to damn Alec. Maybe that's why he was sent here, to fix everything. Alec Lightwood gave him everything, and maybe it's time to start giving instead of taking. 

In his reverie he hadn't even noticed that Jace and Izzy had left, Jace returning briefly to monitor Max just as his sister had. 

"Bane is on his way, Max." He says Max like it’s a bad word, and Max can only guess that Magnus told them he knew no Max. If that was the case then Max was utterly and entirely alone in this blast from the past, with little to no knowledge of how to escape. Magnus was at home, probably nursing a wicked magic-hangover, wondering what happened before he passed out and taking the silence from Max as just another everyday thing. He wasn't having to mentally prepare to see his parents, one dead, one grieving, alive and well. He didn’t have to sit here like the enemy, forced to prove himself to the people he loved more than life itself. And Max thought his life couldn't get much worse than college... what a fool. 

A/N: Sorry it has taken so long pumpkins!!! My muse is so rocky, but I have absolutely loved your comments they make me smile so big!! Let me know what you'd like to see more/less of in the future! Gracias!


End file.
